


Shattered

by andveryginger, Keldae



Series: Deja New [10]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Double Agents, Enemies to Lovers, Established Relationship, F/M, RPverse, Spies & Secret Agents, non-canon backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 16:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17328215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andveryginger/pseuds/andveryginger, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keldae/pseuds/Keldae
Summary: No matter how much Reanden stared in mute horror at the datapad on his desk, the awful words blinking up at him refused to change.





	1. Taungsday

**Author's Note:**

> And thus begins the arc Keldae and I have dubbed "The Incident" -- the huge, rambling, life-altering angstfest that begins to bring Clan Taerich (Plus One) to its current form in the RPverse. There are a _lot_ more gaps to fill in this overall arc, even more backstory to fill in before this all goes down, but we've started hitting the high points. And, quite honestly, I think it's time Mai and Reanden showed there was more to it than _just_ falling into bed... though they still very much enjoy that, too. ::snerk::
> 
> Posted without beta, but with considerable poking and tweaking over the past year. I made one last pass this morning, so anything you see now is probably my fault. ;)

**_Kaas City, Dromund Kaas  
3638 BBY | 15 ATC_ **

 

This was not how a Taungsday was supposed to begin. No matter how much Reanden stared in mute horror at the datapad on his desk, the awful words blinking up at him refused to change. _Confirmed death of Apprentice Sorand Taerich. Suspected death of Imperial traitor Korin Taerich. Jedi Knight Xaja Taerich has been captured for her role in Apprentice Taerich’s death. X. Taerich is accused of kinslaying._

It wasn’t often that he felt the terrible crushing weight of failure. He’d only felt this twice before: the day he watched the holo-reports of the Sacking and tried to not scream his denial of his daughter’s death as he watched the Jedi Temple burn, and the day he’d returned to Lavisar to find his wife dead and his younger two children too terrified to speak. Both had cast scared glances at their uncle before insisting their mother had simply tripped and fallen down the stairs. This felt even worse. _My boys are dead… my daughter…_  His chest tightened as he thought of Xaja: He knew what happened to captured Jedi in Imperial clutches. And the Sith Lords who’d abducted her, Vi’garion and Xalia, were particularly vicious creatures. It would have been more merciful if they’d killed Xaja beside her brothers.

Damned good spy that he was, surviving almost forty years of work as a double-agent and writing textbooks that the SIS still used for their newest cadet classes, Reanden still had no idea how he kept a blank face as he got to his feet, closed up his office, and numbly walked out to the taxi station. His apartment was a mercifully short flight away, and before he was fully aware of his actions, he was letting himself in through his front door, securing it behind him.

It was only in the privacy of his home in Kaas City that he fell to his knees, holding the datapad with the report of his children’s deaths or captures to his chest, and let himself grieve. His shoulders slumped, sobs jerking out of his chest. _Not my kids… please, not my children…_

* * *

 

Glancing at the time, Mairen frowned. He was late. He was never -- she paused, pursing her lips -- _rarely_ late, and only then when a mission kept him. Paired with the constant uneasiness she had sensed most of the day, worry fluttered through her. The crease in her brow deepened as she reached into the Force, sifting through the chaotic weave of energy to seek him out. Her ability to sense him had grown considerably of late, even through his significant blocks: It was as though the slender, grey thread she recognized as Reanden Taerich called out to her. Now, amidst the dark haze that was Dromund Kaas, the darkness she found surrounding him was startling -- not the sort usually wielded by the Sith around her, but a nebulous cloud of grief and anger and anguish surrounding the silver-grey tendril.

She was at her office door before she realized she was moving, arms slipping absently into the billowing sleeves of her robes as she went. “M’lord! M’lord” her assistant called after her.

Mairen shook her head. “Not now, Kieryn,” she called over her shoulder. There was no time for the trivialities of Sith egos or Imperial politics. Reanden was more important than that, more important than the job, if it came down to it. And right now, something was very, very wrong.

“M’lord, it’s about Agent Taerich!”

“What--?” Whirling, her hood fell backward, revealing a coif mussed by the heavy fabric, eyes wide as she turned. She could feel a miasma swirling around her fingers as they curled to a fist at her side. “What _about_ Agent Taerich?”

“A-a report, my lord,” Kieryn Prideaux stammered. He hunched his shoulders, withdrawing from her physically, even as he extended a datapad with a quivering hand. “The a-analysts had it a-and I saw it… thought you’d want to know.”

She snatched the device from his hand, brow furrowing. Placing her thumb on the biometric scanner, the device powered up and a report filled the screen in glorious monochrome. The text seemed too horrible to be true, a weight settling in her core:

> _Confirmed death of Apprentice Sorand Taerich. Suspected death of Imperial traitor Korin Taerich. Jedi Knight Xaja Taerich has been captured for her role in Apprentice Taerich’s death. X. Taerich accused of kinslaying._

“Sorand,” she whispered. Pain spiked through her, a chill lancing at her core, and she closed her eyes. Exhaling, she forced it aside. Then, pausing a beat, she opened her eyes and shoved the datapad back at Kieryn. “If anyone needs me, I am _not_ available. I don’t care if it’s the Emperor himself -- tell them I will get to them when I return. And before you ask, I have no idea when that will be. If they ask why… just… make something up.”

“Ye--” Kieryn paused, clearing his breaking voice. He clutched the datapad to his chest. “Yes, m’lord.”

Turning back toward the central atrium, she didn’t bother with the hood. The exit came into view and it was all she could do not to break into a full run. _Don’t do something stupid,_ she prayed. _Force, please, don’t let him do something stupid._


	2. Vulnerable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now was the time to grieve. The rest would come when their heads were clearer.

Had time frozen? Or was it moving at a breakneck pace? He couldn’t tell. Time didn’t seem to have a meaning anymore. Did anything, really? He’d failed to protect three of the people he loved the most in the galaxy -- completely and utterly failed.  _ Airna, I’m so sorry… _

Reanden absently took another swig from the rapidly-emptying bottle of whiskey near his side, the burn of the liquor barely registering against the pain of his broken heart. Contrary to what he’d hoped, the alcohol wasn’t doing a damn thing to make the pain go away either. Some little part of him whispered that this was a bad idea and not the way he should be mourning his children -- he should be planning revenge, dammit! He should be finding some way to destroy Vi’garion and Xalia; or taking his anger out on the Jedi for not protecting his daughter; or on some other target in the galaxy for letting his sons die. Was his  _ brother  _ involved with this? Maglion was certainly a target closer at hand, but It was too soon to know if he had assisted the Sith conspirators. 

The old spy sighed. He should get up, try to purge the worst of the alcohol out of his system, start planning his revenge for his children’s terrible fates. He should also, he thought, try to do damage control so his younger daughter wouldn’t start doing something stupid in revenge for the Republic’s supposed murder of her twin brother…

But he found he didn’t have the energy to stand, all but flopped on the floor, leaning against the couch. Who could worry about dignity at a time like this? It wasn’t like there was anyone here to witness his --

There was the sudden sound of someone pounding on his apartment door. “Reanden?” He blearily frowned at the door as his sluggish mind recognized Mairen’s voice, oddly worried-sounding. Wait… he’d been supposed to meet her for lunch. Shit, that had been… He blinked at the chronometer in his cranial implants, and would have winced if he’d been a little bit more sober. Yes, he’d be worried too if he’d been stood up for well over three hours at this point.

_ She can’t see me like this _ , he silently muttered in a mental tone that was absolutely not a whine. Maybe if he stayed still and didn’t answer --

“I know you’re in there.” Mairen pounded on the door again. “I can feel you.” Her voice shifted slightly -- that was definite worry that Reanden could hear. “Let me in, Reanden. Please…”

He didn’t have the will to argue with her, or the will to get up. Fortunately, he’d wired in his apartment’s security systems to his implants years ago -- a couple of blinks later, and the lock disengaged. Rude though it was, he didn’t try to stand up to greet the Jedi, only half because some part of him suspected he couldn’t actually stand up without falling over. He just let his gaze fall back to the damned datapad. No matter that his vision was too blurry for him to read the words now, they were too burned into his mind for him to forget them.  _ Sorand… Korin… Xaja… why you? Why you? _

The door slid aside and Mairen entered a dark apartment. Rain continued to cascade against the windows, the ambient light beyond bleak. Slowly, her eyes adjusted and she was able to make out shapes in the foyer. Shifting her focus from her vision to her Force connections, she sought the tendril that was Reanden. Her gaze shifted upward, looking through the open portal to the room beyond. She could see his form, collapsed on the floor.

Whiskey -- pungent, sweet, and smoky -- lingered in the air around him as she approached, lowering herself to the floor. An empty bottle of Whryen’s sat nearby, a fresh one clutched in his hand. “I got the report,” she said quietly. A knot formed in her throat and she swallowed. The intensity of his loss, of his pain pushed at her, mingled with her own, and her voice wavered. “The analysts had it all day and I --” She shook her head. “I couldn’t believe…”

She drew a deep breath and reached for him. The warmth of her palm came to rest against his cheek, thumb drawing a soothing line across his cheekbone, even as his emotions buffeted her more fiercely with the contact. Words could not begin to express what he felt, what she felt for him, for the son who had become her first padawan. So instead, she leaned in and placed her lips against his forehead, allowing them to linger for a long moment before drawing back.  “I’m here, love,” she whispered. Her tears, brimming from green-hazel eyes, cooled quickly against her cheek in the ambient air.

Reanden hadn’t been aware of how damn cold he was until he felt Mairen’s warm hand on his cheek, her palm gently caressing his skin, ignoring the prickle of stubble. With an effort, he finally shifted his eyes to her as she kissed his temple. Even through the fog and the darkness he found himself in -- a darkness he didn’t think could be attributed entirely to Dromund Kaas’ weather systems, she was a light he could almost reach for, if he could have moved. Part of him desperately wanted to lash out, unload the anger he felt at his failure to protect his children at the first available target, lose it on the person who was keeping him from sitting alone with his terrible grief and letting his broken heart shatter further into fine dust.

He opened his mouth, but his voice faded when he saw the sorrow in her eyes, the tears trailing down her own cheeks. That wasn’t pity -- that was grief to reflect his own, grief he could actually  _ sense _ , radiating between them. He didn’t fully register her words, but he could hear the tone of her voice -- gentle, hesitant, sorrowful. He could feel the gentleness in her touch, almost as if she was afraid of him falling to pieces in her hands. And truth be told, it wasn’t too far from the reality. He wasn’t sure how the legendary Agent Duathion of the SIS, Cipher Twenty-Nine of the lately-dissolved Imperial Intelligence, hadn’t already completely crumpled. Or maybe he already had and he just hadn’t realized it yet.

The hand that wasn’t clutching his second bottle of whiskey reached out along the tile floor until he found hers and clung to her like she was the only point of stability in his upended world. “They were just  _ kids _ ,” he whispered, looking away from her gaze before his tattered dignity wholly disappeared and brought him to an uncontrollable grief that he didn’t want to burden her with. His gaze found an invisible point on the shadow-covered floor and focused on it. It was better than looking at the cursed report again. “Why my kids?”

Mairen carded her fingers through his hair, drawing her hand around to cradle his chin, tilting his head gently toward her. She could see the glassy sheen, the piercing despair that haunted eyes that had, only a day before, contained such an impish gleam as she touched him. It would be a long while before he touched that kind of happiness, she thought, but she had to at least help him  _ hope _ .

“Because they’re brave and strong and willing to take risks -- to do the right thing,” she said at length. “Because they wanted to take care of each other. Because they learned from their mother, from you how to be fighters and warriors for what mattered.” Warm tears pooled in her own eyes, escaping and dropping onto her cloak as she maintained her focus on him. “Because they’re  _ your children _ , love, and the muja doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

A dry, broken laugh jolted its way out of his chest at her words. “Taking after me, huh?” His voice sounded strained and bitter even to his own ears. “Any other day and I’d be proud of them.” He looked away from her gaze and her tears, because if he stared at that too long he was going to lose the last shreds of his composure. Although what did that really matter, anyway? Mairen had already seen him naked multiple times, seen him with impressive bruises and cuts, and was now seeing him at his most vulnerable. What would it change if she saw him break down completely?

_ You really know how to seduce a woman, _ a tiny voice in his mind muttered, and he almost laughed at that. But it already hurt enough to breathe. “Force dammit,” he whispered, “why the hell did they have to take after me or their mother like this? Why couldn’t they have been selfish for once and stayed safe?” Xaja hadn’t even learned bravery from her parents like Mairen said -- she’d been Order-raised for almost her entire life. Now he was never going to have the chance to see if his firstborn had turned out like her Jedi mother at all… or see either of his sons grown up and fully set loose on the galaxy. 

He swallowed. Hadn’t Sorand had an “unofficial” girlfriend in one of the Mandalorian clans? Oh, the poor girl was going to be devastated. And Korin -- did he have someone in his life? Reanden had no idea. He’d failed to keep his kids safe, and now they were never going to have the full, long lives he’d wanted for them, and he would never have the chance to know them. And it  _ hurt _ , it hurt so fucking badly, and he would have cut what was left of his heart out to make the pain stop, or to save even one of his children from the terrible fate they’d suffered.

“No parent should have to bury a child.” His eyes stung and tears spilled down his cheeks once again. Had they stopped? He was pretty sure they’d stopped at some point that had passed. He slumped despite Mairen’s gentle hold on him, a wet trail racing from one eye down to her hand on his face. “I didn’t want to outlive three of mine…” Even if he’d wanted to get another word out, the knot in his throat wouldn’t let him. The old agent gave up the fight to cling to his shattered dignity, buried his face in Mairen’s shoulder, and felt his shoulders shake with the grief for his lost children.  _ Not like this… _

The Corellian Jedi wrapped an arm around him, drew him closer. With her other hand, she slowly pulled the whiskey bottle from his hand and set it aside. She then embraced him fully, cradling him to her as he shuddered against her. Her own tears mingled with his on her cloak, both finally giving in to the strain. She whispered quiet words to him, raking her fingers through the thick, silver-threaded mass of dark hair atop his head.

She loved him. She knew that -- had known for some time. And loved his kids. That made them hers… her chosen family, regardless as to whether or not she and Reanden ever saw fit to marry. Through him, she knew Xaja would never take her own brother’s life, Sith or not. The Force was all but screaming that there was something fundamentally wrong with the story presented by the two arresting Sith; the pieces didn’t fit. But now was not the time to figure how or why. Nor was it the time to remind him that there was still a chance to save his beautiful Xaja. Now was the time to grieve. The rest would come when their heads were clearer.


	3. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t need the Force to feel the concern and sorrow radiating from her.

Eventually, the shaking slowed, his breaths interrupted only by the occasional stutter. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke. “Do you think you can stand?”

Reanden shook his head. “That’s all right.” Mairen gave a smile that twitched briefly lopsided, despite herself. “Good thing I’m a Jedi,” she said. “We’ll recruit a little help.”

Shifting her position, she hooked his arm over her shoulders and pushed up with her legs. A soft nudge with the Force made the maneuver fairly easy. “We’re going for a shower and bed.” She began the long walk down the corridor toward the stairs. “Then, if you’re still conscious, we’ll see about a little bread to soak up that whiskey.”

He honestly did try to help by walking on his own steam, honest. He was a kriffing _spy_ ; he could hold his liquor better than this, dammit. But his legs shook and the entire apartment tilted dangerously. If Mairen hadn’t kept her arms around him, letting him use her as a crutch, he would definitely have fallen and just curled up against the wall to sleep it off or wait for his existence to end. He almost did a couple of times anyway, and only Mairen’s Jedi reflexes kept him from landing on his face.

The spy blinked, and suddenly they were in the refresher attached to his bedroom. Reanden felt himself being guided to sit down on the bench, and rested his swimming head back against the cool wall as Mairen left him for a moment, letting his eyes drift closed again. He heard the sound of water running, and then he was being gently undressed. This was a far cry from the usual mood when they were removing each other’s clothing: her hands didn’t grope over his skin more than what was needed to remove his clothes and provide comfort; the kisses he felt were only gentle presses into his hair.

She stepped aside again for a moment -- Reanden heard the sound of fabric rustling, then she was pulling him back to his feet, and he felt the spray of warm water against his back. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her shoulders for balance and felt smooth skin instead of her heavy outer cloak. This definitely felt different from their last time getting into a shower together -- slower and more gentle. He didn’t need the Force to feel the concern and sorrow radiating from her. _Kriff, what did I do to deserve you?_

He wasn’t aware he’d actually mumbled that until she softly murmured, “Shhh,” stroking her fingers through his dampening hair. He stayed somewhat still as she gently washed the dark strands; she took her time to run her fingers over his scalp, the soothing touch one that somehow drew the pain and tension from his back and chest. He blinked, and suddenly he was being carefully towelled off and led toward his bed, collapsing in the covers. Mairen sighed and gently kissed his cheek as she tugged the blankets back overtop of him.

A sudden jolt of panic shot through him as she began to draw away. He’d already lost his children tonight, he couldn’t take another hit like that, not from someone that he lo-- that he cared deeply about, more than he should. One of his hands shot out from the blankets with more speed and dexterity than a man so inebriated should have been able to muster, and he gently closed his fingers around her wrist. “Don’t go,” he whispered, looking up at her. He didn’t care that he was acting clingy, or that she had to be able to see the open grief and fear in his eyes. “Please… I need you, Mairen…”

“I’m not going anywhere, old man.” Mairen’s smile turned sadly affectionate as she bent down and kissed his cheek again. Reanden followed her with his eyes as she rounded the foot of the bed, felt the mattress dip as she crawled in behind him. Her arms settled tightly around him, her legs tangled with his, and her body pressed against his back. Normally that was appealing to more primal instincts of his on top of being cute -- now it was just warm and comforting and secure, just what he needed.

He closed his hand over hers and held their joined hands tightly against his chest, where what was left of his heart kept beating. _Sorand… Korin… Xaja… not like this… I’m so sorry. Your old dad’s going to get justice for this, whatever it takes. I promise._


End file.
